Faramir's Wild Ride
by quillon
Summary: Eowyn greets her husband after he has been away for a while...please R & R


Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but I promise I will put them back relatively unharmed when I am done playing with them.  
  
I awakened suddenly, aware that the fire had burned low, for I was cold. But then I noticed that someone had thoughtfully draped a thick blanket over me as I had slept. I smiled, thinking that my maid, unwilling to wake me, had discovered me asleep at the small dining table next to the doors to the balcony in our bedchamber, until I sat up fully, trying to stretch out the muscles in my neck after resting in such an awkward position and saw my darling husband sleeping in similar fashion in the chair across from mine. Gently, I touched his shoulder, intending to wake him, and found that his clothing was soaked through with rain that had been falling for days now.  
  
He shifted a little, took a deeper breath, and opened his eyes. A drowsy smile crossed his face as he raised his head and looked at me, a cheerful expression upon his weary face. "Hello, Eowyn," he murmured, and the words held every ounce of love he felt for me within them.  
  
I rose from the chair, keeping the blanket close about my shoulders, and moved closer to him, bending and kissing him full on the mouth, and though he responded, he made no move to pull me into his arms. "Welcome home, Faramir," I sighed as I pulled away before I teasingly said, "It appears, husband, that you have managed to drip a rather large puddle upon my newly cleaned floor."  
  
He looked about him, feigning surprise. "And so I have. Forgive me, my lady. I only meant to sit for a moment." He chuckled softly as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and then stroked my cheek before he grew more serious, desire flaring within the depths of his eyes. "I did not have the heart to wake you, my love."  
  
I smiled then and offered him my hand. "Come, let us divest you of these wet things."  
  
He took my hand but made no move to rise. Squeezing gently, he said, "I fear that I took a tumble on the way here, Eowyn."  
  
I raised my eyebrow at his admission. "A tumble?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, and I seem to have twisted my ankle somewhat."  
  
"Faramir!" I gently admonished him, sitting down again, my hands already moving toward his legs. With a wince, he turned in his chair, providing me access to his injured limb. "What happened?" I asked, noting ruefully that his ankle was swollen too much to easily remove the boot. I stood, leaving the blanket on my chair, and crossed to the fireplace, stirring up the coals and throwing in another log, before I returned to my husband who sat watching me with an unreadable expression. "Faramir, what happened?" I repeated.  
  
Finally he shrugged. "My horse threw me when lightning struck a tree near the road. It is naught really."  
  
"Husband, your ankle is swollen so much that I shall have to cut the boot away! Do not say it is naught." I reached for his cloak clasp and unfastened it, the heavy, soddened cloth slipping from his shoulders. "Remove your surcoat, Faramir. You are soaking wet. You will catch a chill."  
  
As if on cue, he sneezed, and then looked up at me sheepishly. I sighed and placed my hands upon his cheeks. He was unnaturally warm.  
"Forgive me, Eowyn. I was too preoccupied with returning home to you to pay much attention to my condition," he told me as he began to undo the buttons on his black surcoat, the tree of Gondor embroidered upon the front in silver thread.  
  
"What am I to do with you?" I asked, mystified by his lack of concern for his own health.  
  
He pulled my hands away from his face and took them in his. "And I am sorry that I am late as well," he added.  
  
"Faramir, you are only a few hours late. I knew the rain would slow you down. . . ."  
  
"And it did. Eowyn, I left three days ago."  
  
Now I was really puzzled. "But it is only a two-day ride from Minas Tirith," I said stupidly.  
  
He nodded, his face grave while his eyes glittered somewhat mischievously. "I meant to surprise you by arriving yestereve."  
  
Shaking my head in exasperation, I pulled my hands from his grasp and helped him remove his doublet. "Instead, I am surprised by a dolt of a husband who has managed both to injure and make himself ill in his haste," I eventually muttered. He had always been stalwart in his intentions, and once he had his mind fixed upon an objective, there was naught any could to distract him from it.  
  
The sparkle quickly fled his eyes, and he grimaced again, lowering his chin to his chest with a sigh. At my behest, he obediently leaned forward in his chair so I could pull his shirt from the top of his trousers before I yanked it up over his head and arms, dropping it into the growing pile of wet clothing, replacing it with my blanket.  
  
He leaned back into the warmth of the blanket with a soft sigh, though his guilty expression remained. He glanced at me warily, and I relented, unwilling to reprimand him further. Kneeling before him, I asked if I could borrow his dagger for a moment.  
  
"So you can cut my throat and have done with it?" he asked, only half- jokingly.  
  
"Nay, Faramir, I need to remove your boot."  
  
Silently, he carefully drew his dagger from the sheath that hung upon his belt, and he presented it to me, handle-first. Working quickly but carefully, I sliced through the soft boot, freeing his injured ankle from its leather prison, before returning his dagger to him. He resheathed it without a word and then looked down upon his swollen foot, wincing as I gently probed at it. It was badly sprained, red and purple with bruises.  
  
"How bad is it?" he finally asked.  
  
"Bad enough, love, though I do not think it is broken, thankfully," I replied, my tone more contentious than I would have preferred, as I stood and crossed to the bell pull. The call was answered relatively quickly, despite the lateness of the hour, by a sleepy kitchen boy. I request that he bring a pot filled with cold water right away for his lord's poor foot.  
  
"My lady," said Faramir after the boy had departed, "I realize that my current state of disrepair is not how you had expected to find me when at last I was able to greet you this night, but I most sincerely hope that I have not angered you beyond hope of reconciliation. I am simply overzealous, Eowyn. I have missed you terribly while I have been away, and I rather foolishly thought that if I departed earlier from Minas Tirith and attempted to ride through the night that I could reach you sooner. Noticeably, I have failed miserably, though I must admit that I am still quite elated just to be here once again viewing your beautiful face. I hope that you would allow me to make reparations to you sometime after I am feeling more able for all of the trouble and worry I have caused for you tonight."  
  
Despite the seriousness of his tone, I could not help but laugh. "Lord Steward, you are not in council chambers. I am your wife, foolish man. There is no need to negotiate with me for I love you. And, I am not wroth with you at any rate."  
  
Still, Faramir looked quite glum as the kitchen boy returned, bearing the water I had requested. I took it from him and asked if he could please have the bathtub brought to the bedroom and filled with hot water for the Prince as quickly as possible, as well as some tea and a light meal for his lord. He bowed and ran out of the room once again.  
  
I set the pot of cold water on the floor before my husband and gently raised his foot from the floor, slowly lowering it into the water. He hissed at the cold temperature until the throbbing in his ankle receded, and then he sat quietly gazing into the water, as I removed his other boot in a more conventional manner.  
  
"Are you warm enough, love?" I asked, hoping he was not wroth with me for being such a shrew toward him. It was apparent that he was bone tired and badly in need of rest.  
  
He nodded and then grinned at me, his weary eyes crinkling at the corners in the most endearing way. He has always known that I cannot resist his smiles, and so sometimes he uses them, I think, just to disenable me from scolding him further. But we both knew that my mood had stemmed only from concern about him. "I am well enough, Eowyn." He opened his arms to me, and despite the fact that his black suede trousers were soaking wet, I went to him and sat upon the thigh of his uninjured leg, pulling his head to my bosom, tenderly stroking his cheek with my thumb, tangling the rest of my fingers in his damp hair.  
  
"I have missed you, Faramir."  
  
He moaned in pleasure, and he tightened his embrace, a shuddering sigh escaping him. "I have longed for this moment for months," he murmured. "I have greatly missed the comfort of your arms."  
  
"Ah, but I wager you did not miss my mouth," I stated ruefully. "Forgive me?"  
  
He pulled away from me before placing his hand upon the back of my head and pulling my face toward his, delivering a crushing kiss to my waiting mouth. When finally he reluctantly broke contact, he spoke softly, breathless with passion, "There is the punishment for your mouth, my lady."  
  
I smiled, panting softly at his eagerness, and was just about to say something witty and more than a little naughty in return, when there was a soft knock upon the door. I stood quickly, putting a little space between my husband and me, and my cheeks were still flushed as I looked down upon my husband, who was looking up at me playfully. I went to open the door.  
  
It was Sanor, a stable hand, bearing the bathtub into the room, placing it next to the fireplace at my request. "The water should arrive shortly, Lady Eowyn." He bowed and started to leave when my husband stopped him.  
  
"My horse, Sanor? Is he well?"  
  
"Oh, yes, my lord, Simbelmynë is quite fine. Nary a scratch on him." Sanor looked at Faramir, obviously thinking that the horse had fared much better than his Prince, but he wisely said nothing, only bowing and leaving the room to help carry the water.  
  
"I shall have to give him a little something extra at the next Midwinter celebration for his tactfulness," Faramir said, with a trace of a smile. I took the moment to find some clean linen strips for bandages from my chest at the foot of the bed while we awaited the delivery of the bath water. My husband's attention returned to me, his grey eyes dark with desire, and I shivered in anticipation as I crossed to drop the linen near the bathtub before I stood close to the open door, awaiting the arrival of the bath water.  
  
Several men began to carry in large, open kettles of hot water, carefully dumping them into the tub while Faramir and I flirted when our eyes happened to meet across the space of the room, and I blushed wildly under his scrutiny. When the bath was finally prepared and tea, towels and soap had been delivered, I dismissed the men, turning the lock behind them, and returned to my husband's side, bringing a towel with me. "Let us get you into the bath, my lord." I crouched next to him and gingerly removed his foot from the cold water, setting it upon the towel and drying it carefully. Then I rose and helped him up from his chair as he draped his arm around my shoulders, leaning heavily upon me as I guided him to the bath.  
  
I took the blanket from his shoulders, and he removed his belt before he unfastened his trousers, peeling the wet suede down his legs and stepping from them with my aid. And then off went his linen smallclothes, and he tiredly stepped into the bath. He eased himself down into the hot water with a sigh and settled languidly against the side of the tub, resting his injured ankles upon the edge to keep it out of the water. His eyes closed immediately, and I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he was deeply asleep if I did not work to keep him awake a bit longer.  
  
Carefully I began to swathe his ankle in the clean, soft linen. "I am relieved that you were not hurt more seriously than this, my lord."  
  
"As am I, love," he breathed. "But I do feel foolish."  
  
I smiled. "It is not as if you are a Rider of Rohan, Faramir. You were not born to the saddle."  
  
He grinned. "You never fail to remind me of that, however, I suppose that in this case it is a good thing or I would look positively brainless for falling off of my horse."  
  
"I am sorry that we have not found you a better-trained horse yet. I will send word to Eomer and ask him to find a mount more suitable for your style of riding."  
  
Faramir laughed. "Nay, wife, I would not ride an old, tame mare with only two teeth left in her head! I do well enough on Simbelmynë, just not so well in such a dangerous rainstorm."  
  
I chuckled at him. "You did well enough not to be struck by lightning," I told him as I finished with the bandaging. "Would you care for some tea now?"  
  
He opened his eyes and raised his head. "Oh, I had forgotten all about it. Yes, please, Eowyn." I went to the table and poured him a cup, adding honey as he likes, before bearing the entire tray to the side of the bathtub. I served the tea to him, and he murmured his thanks before taking a sip of the brew. The kitchen staff had outdone themselves considering the earliness of the hour, providing cold roast chicken, various tidbits of fresh fruit, a fine white bread with lots of butter and buckleberry jam, and quince cakes for dessert. "Ah, all of this luxurious warmth will spoil me for certain. I had nearly forgotten what it was to be warm."  
"But you deserve to be spoiled, my dear." I held forth a morsel of chicken and allowed him to eat it from my fingers. He smiled and relaxed again, savoring his meal.  
  
"I only wish that I was not so cursedly tired." He sipped again at his tea, and I continued to feed him until he began to drowse, his teacup slipping below the surface of the water. I hated to wake him, but I could not leave him in the bath indefinitely, so I softly called his name and stroked his face until his eyes once again fluttered open.  
  
"Here you have fallen asleep, and I have not even wet the soap yet," I teased, reaching into the water to retrieve the lost cup.  
  
"Wet it then, love. I suppose that I must suffer to be washed before I go to bed."  
  
I snickered and commanded him to sit upright, hoping that would hold off sleep long enough to bathe him properly. I need not have worried. As soon as I lathered his chest he was more than sufficiently awakened, and quickly it became all I could do to avoid his groping hands as he attempted to drag me into the tub with him.  
  
"Faramir!" I shrieked, most certainly awakening the entire household, as he finally succeeded in his task, and I was wriggling upon his lap in the bathtub, gown, slippers and all.  
  
"Ah, my lady, you seem to be all wet," he purred in my ear, and all thoughts of being wroth with him fled. In fact, all thoughts fled from my brain as his hands skimmed over my bodice, eager to reach the skin beneath it. "Eowyn, this frock is so restrictive. What say you if I were to remove it?"  
  
"I would say your fever has made you addlebrained, Lord Faramir," I said in a tone which belied how excited I truly was by his nearness. I slapped at his roaming hands and sat upright, as I told him, "You are ill and wounded and should be in bed."  
  
"Ah, I agree, wife. We should be in bed." His tone was so thoroughly wicked that I know I shall never forget it for as long as I live. Gently he gathered my hair into his hands and placed it over my right shoulder, before he began to unbutton the back of my dress with nimble fingers. I suppressed a shiver of pleasure as his hands worked, and he began to trail light kisses upon the exposed skin of my neck and back. He slid the dripping fabric from my shoulders, and I nearly let him have his way with me right then. I decided to try a different approach.  
  
"One moment, my lord," I said huskily as I gently extracted myself from his arms, standing up in the tub without help despite the heaviness of my saturated skirts. I turned to gaze upon his face, his eyes regarding me with a curious mixture of love and impatience. I finished unbuttoning the gown and let it fall from me, and with a fluid motion, I leapt from the tub, squealing giddily as I narrowly missed being restrained by him yet again. I stood dripping just out of his reach yet within his full view, unable to restrain my urge to tease him.  
  
"Wench," he muttered, struggling to raise himself from the bath while using only one foot. I watched him to make sure that he was steady as he stood up and then balanced himself upon the edge of the tub, half in and half out, before I stepped a little further away, making no move to conceal my nakedness from him. I smiled wantonly at him as he moaned in frustration unable to safely release himself from the prison of the bathtub. Soon he had been reduced to threatening me with delightful tortures he would perform upon me once he had me within his grasp. I did nothing to aid him, and remained just beyond his reach, giggling at him.  
  
"Mercy, Eowyn. Please," he finally groaned, and indeed I could see that his ardor was beginning to wane. I made him swear to behave himself which he did reluctantly with a rueful smile. But I trusted him enough to come to him, allowing him to use my shoulder as an aid to his balance as he finally stepped out of the tub. He leaned upon me as I fetched us some towels. I dried his chest and arms and swept the towel around his back, rubbing to dry and warm his skin at the same time. He grinned. "You are a most wantonly beautiful woman."  
  
"You are no better," I countered as he dried me gently, his grey eyes contemplating my body in the most amorous way. When he was finished, he hobbled to the bed with my help, and I bade him to lie down after I pulled the covers back. He sank into the feather mattress with a sigh, and I raised his injured ankle and placed a couple of pillows under it, hoping to keep the swelling down somewhat, before I covered him up. Walking around to my side of the bed, I slipped between the sheets and nestled close to my husband, who was even now beginning to snore softly. I grinned and softly kissed his cheek, greatly looking forward to when he would wake once again. 


End file.
